


The Play's the Thing

by Shinybug



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: First Time, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-24
Updated: 2011-08-24
Packaged: 2017-10-23 00:54:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/244459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinybug/pseuds/Shinybug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur had to spare a thought to be impressed at how many slanderous and untrue things Merlin had managed to insert into such a brief statement: that Arthur liked to drink, and that when he did drink too much he had a tendency to inflict bodily harm upon his manservant, either in the form of beatings and/or possibly sodomy, and that chambermaids were more or less involved in these indiscretions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Play's the Thing

The Play's the Thing

  


(or, The Lady Doth Protest Too Much, Methinks)

  


*~*~*~*

Arthur wasn't absolutely certain--in fact he wasn't certain about a great many things at that moment that he had taken previously for absolute truths--but he felt fairly sure that when he ordered Merlin to help him put Lady Helewys off his princely scent that _this was not what he'd had in mind_. Unfortunately, with Merlin's tongue down his throat and Merlin's hand down his pants and Lady Helewys still making strangling sounds as she fled in the opposite direction, it was a wee bit difficult for Arthur to recall exactly what he'd had in mind for Merlin to do in the first place.

From his current position up against the curved wall of the stairwell, his back pressed uncomfortably against the arrow slit and his cock pressed snugly into Merlin's hot hand, Arthur couldn't deny that Merlin's method proved effective, if somewhat unexpected and unconventional. Arthur guessed that he might also be more than a little peeved with Merlin later for taking such outrageous liberties, but Arthur was pragmatic enough to recognize that taking issue with the magnificent, awkward, perfect handjob he was now receiving would best be done _afterward_.

*~*~*~*

It wasn't that Lady Helewys was ugly (she wasn't, just rather embarrassingly unremarkable with a tendency to wear ridiculously frilly dresses), or that she was necessarily _old_ per se (although Arthur felt a bit petulantly that he should be able to draw the line before the far side of _thirty_ for potential brides), it was the way she was looking at Arthur that bothered him. And bothered was such a mild word, really. Lady Helewys looked at Arthur like a starving woman would look at a Roman feast, complete with all the joys of gluttony and vomitoriums and little delicacies on the cusp of putrescence: with entirely inappropriate fascination and perverted desire. Like she was imagining what Arthur's crotch sweat would taste like and if she could perhaps bathe in it.

Just, no.

Of course his father thought the widowed Lady Helewys was simply smashing, a fact which Arthur assumed had more to do with her recently deceased husband's not inconsiderable lands, which seemed to encompass nearly half of a neighboring kingdom, than with her (not so charming) personality. Arthur, in an ill-disguisedly bitter aside during lunch, suggested to his father that perhaps the king himself should marry her if he thought she was such a catch. Uther's suddenly thoughtful expression and considering glances immediately made Arthur regret ever having spoken, in fact regret ever learning to speak in the first place as he had a new and chill-inducing image of _that woman_ as his stepmother, and then and there resolved to enlist Merlin's help.

His first mistake, Arthur would reflect on later, was in imagining that Merlin would follow this order any better than he was ever inclined to follow any of Arthur's other orders.

"She's going to eat me alive," Arthur explained, as close to begging as he was ever likely to get, while Merlin fussed around with getting him dressed for dinner.

Merlin snorted indelicately, hands pausing in a tangle in Arthur's doublet laces, a faraway look in his eyes as though he might have been imagining just that scenario in his mind, and was amused. Arthur shuddered.

"Help me. You have to help me."

"What do expect me to do?" Merlin asked incredulously. "I'm just a servant, I can't _make_ her go away."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I don't know, just...make her uncomfortable enough to want to leave. You're good at that. I'd have left long ago if I didn't have to live here."

"Thanks ever so," Merlin replied dryly, yanking tight the laces with more vigor than was strictly appropriate.

Arthur snapped his fingers consideringly at him. "I know, tonight at dinner when you're serving me, you'll have to serve her too since she'll no doubt be seated beside me. Just be extra inconsiderate, maybe spill something on her. You know, just serve her the same way you do me, and it should do the trick."

Merlin appeared to be attempting to wade through several possible retorts, his mouth working tightly against all of them. Arthur waited patiently, almost interested in whatever insubordination Merlin might come up with. Finally though, Merlin looked up at him from under his lashes and just said dubiously, "I don't see how one clumsy servant could possibly affect her decision that you are her personal Holy Grail."

There was an insult in there somewhere, Arthur was sure of it, but Merlin was just looking at him searchingly. "You do your part, Merlin. Leave the heavy lifting to me."

Only, the thing was, the heavy lifting didn't work.

Lady Helewys just laughed delightedly at all Arthur's worst and most inappropriate jokes, the ones that made Morgana hide her smiles behind a napkin and made his father shoot treacherous looks at him from across the table. She hung on his every word as he discussed the most boring subjects he could come up with, and honestly, what woman _actually cared_ to know about the particulars of barley harvesting? Arthur was beginning to suspect that she was either appallingly simple or had quickly learned to tune out his words and listen only to his voice, for all she seemed to be aware of the actual conversation.

She stared at his mouth, she simpered and touched his bicep, she preened and encroached on his personal space. Arthur had a mental image of a mouse being slowly eaten by a large feral cat, and he had never, ever before, likened himself to a rodent, or for that matter any kind of prey.

At one point when Lady Helewys had imposed herself and her unfortunate dress so far into his lap that he was obliged to lean back to avoid being sat upon, he even went so far as to inquire (with a sniff and a pinched look that he'd learned from Merlin) if the lady perhaps kept goats in her bedchamber. For his efforts, he received a thunderous look from the king and a delighted peal of grating laughter from Lady Helewys, who found the suggestion disarmingly funny.

Arthur cast a few glances back at Merlin, who was for once hovering at his shoulder and being entirely unobtrusive for a servant, exactly the opposite of what Arthur had wanted him to do. He tried to be surprised. Merlin always had the same bland expression on his face whenever Arthur looked back, an expression that said he was finding this just as funny as Helewys but for a completely different reason and was not at all inclined to help.

Arthur tried to convey ' _it's the stocks for you, boyo_ ' in one narrow-eyed glare, and he must have at least managed it somewhat because although Merlin had to stifle a smile he did lean forward and ask too loudly, "More wine, my lord?"

And when Arthur inclined his head and gestured to his cup Merlin added tartly and in a stage whisper that nearly everyone could hear, "Although I hope you will not drink as much tonight as you did the other evening, my lord. I'm still full sore, and the chambermaid has not yet recovered her shock."

Arthur stared straight ahead, seeing nothing, as Merlin obediently poured the wine and the surrounding conversations became politely louder in the pretense that no one had heard Merlin's damningly vague comment. Arthur felt the color rise in his face and chanced one look at his father, who was examining his roast squab with far more concentration than the little bones merited, a carefully blank expression on his face. Arthur didn't know whether fear or hysteria was the proper response.

"Oh my," Lady Helewys murmured breathily beside him after a long and considering moment, and Arthur honestly couldn't tell when he glanced innocently at her whether she was horrified or intrigued. Arthur had to spare a thought to be impressed at how many slanderous and untrue things Merlin had managed to insert into such a brief statement: that Arthur liked to drink, and that when he did drink too much he had a tendency to inflict bodily harm upon his manservant, either in the form of beatings and/or possibly sodomy, and that chambermaids were more or less involved in these indiscretions.

That was most certainly _not_ what Arthur had intended.

Of course that was the precise moment when Merlin leaned forward to refill Lady Helewys' cup and (not so accidentally) upended with his elbow the lady's trencher of stew into her noble, ridiculously frilly lap. There was a flurry of activity then, in which Lady Helewys' arms flailed about and Merlin tried to help by shoving a rag between her legs and _rubbing_ , and so the lady was duly mortified and slapped Merlin soundly across the face. Arthur died a little bit in despair. Trust Merlin to take a suggestion and run to the other end of the kingdom with it.

Lady Helewys was whisked off by her handmaid to her rooms and Morgana nearly strangled herself in trying to smother her laughter, eventually begging to be excused by Uther, who looked extremely put upon. Morgana stumbled away hiccuping and Arthur drained his entire goblet. Merlin wrung his hands, the picture of distress, and when the king cleared his throat Merlin interrupted with, "Yes sire, the stocks, of course. I'll be there first thing tomorrow. Shall I bring my own vegetables?" Uther looked as though he had swallowed a poultry bone, and Arthur buried his face in his hands.

Arthur did in fact drink far too much that night, but he didn't send for Merlin once, and no chambermaids were scandalized.

*~*~*~*

The next morning Arthur skipped breakfast in favor of a lengthy private audience with his father, in which it was carefully explained to Arthur that he didn't have to like his future bride, but he would have to choose one eventually for God and Kingdom, whether it was Helewys or someone else. Uther also tried, with as much grace as he possessed and more patience than Arthur had thought him capable, to suggest that should Arthur in fact prefer the company of a catamite to that of a noble woman, that such an arrangement was not unheard of among royalty but still best kept quiet. Also, Uther added in the most perverse possible attempt to reassure Arthur and probably himself, usually no man was so far round the bend that he couldn't beget an heir upon a woman when the time came.

" _Just close your eyes and think of Albion_ ," rang in Arthur's ears long after he'd stopped trying to deny that he had anything resembling that kind of a relationship with Merlin, or in fact any other man at all. He left the audience with a pounding migraine and and an uncomfortable feeling that his father really should have seemed more shocked at Merlin's big reveal of their so-called relationship, but had appeared instead to be giving a well-rehearsed speech. As though he'd been expecting to have this conversation for some time.

Which really was completely insulting, Arthur thought as he made his way to the court physician's rooms for a tonic, passing servants who hid their smiles behind their hands. Bad enough that apparently now the whole castle thought he was poofter, but they couldn't even pretend to be _surprised_ by it.

"I need something for my head," Arthur groused upon entering without knocking, finding Gaius at his workbench. "Whatever you usually give Morgana."

"Good morning, sire," Gaius intoned, somehow managing to sound both deferential and disapproving. At what, Arthur couldn't guess.

"My head," Arthur repeated, pointing at it. "Hurts."

For that, Arthur received The Eyebrow, but Gaius got up and fetched a small blue bottle from a nearby shelf. "May I ask the nature of this headache?"

Arthur peered at him in irritation. "Bad? Obviously?"

"What I meant, sire, was did you sustain an injury on the field, or is it the result of too much wine?"

"It is the result too much wine, compounded by my father lecturing me for the better part of two hours, on a subject which he himself can't be very familiar, and which does not apply in the first place," Arthur explained as patiently as he could, reaching out for the bottle.

Gaius held it just beyond his reach. "As to whether or not it applies to you, I cannot say with any expert opinion," he replied with a sort of canny glint in his eyes that made Arthur nervous. "I can only say that as your physician it would be better for all parties involved if you take care in future with your servants. In whatever endeavors you may involve them in."

With that proclamation, which was somehow more unsettling than anything his father had said, Gaius held out the bottle for Arthur to take. Arthur swallowed hard and took it, hoping fervently it really was headache tonic and not a purgative to induce vomiting or some such wretched thing.

"I'm not--I've never _hurt_ Merlin. I would never do that," Arthur attempted to explain, wondering even as he did why he felt such a compulsion to explain anything at all to the old man. He hadn't felt this guilty since he'd locked his tutor in the privy with a hedgehog when he was twelve, and this time he _hadn't even done anything_.

Gaius' expression softened a little, and he looked grandfatherly again. "Good. I know he cares for you a great deal. I wouldn't want to see him hurt in any way, physical or otherwise."

Arthur snorted indelicately. "Cares for me? Have you met Merlin?" He asked sarcastically, then quailed under the full force of The Eyebrow again. "Right, no hurting Merlin. Got it."

"When he is released from the stocks I hope you'll go easy on him, sire," Gaius said more gently. "It can't be easy to love a prince. His outburst last night was rash, but then love can cause us to do and say very foolish things, can't it?"

Arthur touched his throbbing temple with two fingers, closing his eyes briefly. "Gaius. Merlin doesn't love me. We're not. In. Love."

Gaius' face was sympathetic. "Young prince, this is but a small stumbling block for the two of you. I think you'll find that something as special as what the two of you share will endure long past this little indiscretion of Merlin's."

Arthur heaved a sigh and drank the tonic.

*~*~*~*

At the noon meal Arthur was reacquainted with Lady Helewys, who had completely recovered from the eventful evening before, and was dressed in another of her painfully colored dresses with flouncy bits hanging off everywhere. At the king's order Arthur took his meal in private with the lady, with the express purpose of repairing the damage done by a foolish prince and an indiscreet manservant. They ate in a small, cozy room off the main hall, waited on only peripherally by one quiet older maid who was unlikely to cause any disturbances, and who was in fact half-deaf.

The meal was very quiet, Arthur not having the slightest idea what to say to her, afraid to do more damage to his personal life by making amends to the lady, though it was what his father and his conscience urged him to do. He was also vaguely preoccupied thinking of Merlin in the stocks, wondering at how easily he'd fallen on that proverbial sword for Arthur. " _Go easy on him_ ," Gaius had said, and even though he knew Merlin didn't actually love him, he was growing more and more uncomfortable as time went on and thought he should really speak to Merlin about the whole thing before it got even more out of hand than it already was. The air needed to be cleared.

Finally Lady Helewys put her hand on Arthur's arm across the table, still encroaching but at least with less simpering in the light of day. "My lord," she said straightforwardly, and Arthur was taken aback at the absence of coquetry. "I am a grown woman. I have been married before. I know some men have--appetites--that are unseemly to discuss in public. Even princes."

Arthur's fork with a speared bit of potato was arrested halfway to his mouth. He stared in mounting horror, not having expected Lady Helewys to speak of it at all, and not sure how to respond.

"I also know," she went on gamely, stroking his arm just the tiniest bit with her manicured fingers, "that servants sometimes say and do coarse things in jest, not understanding the finer points of social behavior. Being lowborn, one can hardly expect them to behave better. So, if your servant was speaking in jest, you have only to say so and all will be forgotten. Except his clumsiness and my fine dress, of course. That little affair certainly deserved the stocks."

She smiled at Arthur tentatively, hopefully. He felt something twist in his gut, something guilty again. All he had to do was say, " _No, I'm afraid he was not in jest. I have a highly inappropriate and occasionally kinky relationship with my manservant, and will be unable to sire any children upon you no matter what my father says_ ," and he had a feeling that Lady Helewys would let the matter drop and leave Camelot forthwith. Perhaps her possible future relations with the king might not even be affected.

He couldn't say it. Her eyes, lightly wrinkled and unremarkably brown, were honest, and Arthur recognized that for all her obnoxious affectations she was simply a woman trying to secure her future. He pitied her, and he couldn't lie.

"I'm afraid it was a jest, my lady. I apologize on behalf of my servant. He is sadly afflicted with a mental condition, and occasionally bursts out with foolish and frightening things." Arthur's tongue felt wooden in his mouth, and he felt no better for having told the truth. Well, mostly the truth.

Lady Helewys beamed, revealing slightly yellowed teeth. "Excellent, my lord Arthur. Excellent. Then we can continue to get to know each other better."

Arthur's smile felt a little anemic in his face. He set down his fork with its forgotten potato, suddenly having lost his appetite.

*~*~*~*

After lunch Arthur decided to retreat to his rooms, disliking the parting glint in Lady Helewys' eyes and fearing she might have something more intimate in mind for ' _getting to know each other better_.' He was taking the stairs two at a time in his haste when Merlin barreled into him at full speed, descending. Arthur grabbed his arms for balance and they stumbled back into the stairwell in a tangle.

"Arthur," Merlin exclaimed, eyes bright and hair wet from a recent bath. He smelled like vegetables, but at least the non-rotten variety this time. "I was just up in your room looking for you."

"I was at lunch," Arthur said dumbly, still holding Merlin's arms, which were much more defined in his grip than he'd been expecting for one so slight. "Um. How were the stocks?"

Merlin peered suspiciously at him, and indeed Arthur felt a little silly for asking. "Fine. It was so soon after the last time, they didn't have much to throw. It was cabbage mostly, and then just straw. When the children got bored and left the guards took pity and let me out," he said, dissolving into a little conspiratorial grin. The early afternoon light through the west-facing arrow slit glinted on Merlin's straight white teeth.

"Oh, good," Arthur said, feeling odd and a little dazed and wondering what exactly was in that headache tonic. He'd felt fine at lunch, if a bit queasy.

"So...how was your meal with Lady Hellacious?" Merlin asked, looking down at Arthur's hands on his arms with raised eyebrows, and Arthur immediately let go and stepped back.

"It was fine. Except that I might have--that is, I. Bollixed it. I'm pretty sure I'll have to marry her now. I told her you were joking about the gay thing. In retrospect, I don't think she cared so much about the drinking thing or the possible sadism thing. She said all was forgiven." Arthur frowned at Merlin's look of dismay.

"You mean I stood in the stocks all morning for nothing? You are unbelievable." Merlin looked like he was winding up to call Arthur a prat, so Arthur forestalled him.

"Yeah, about that. You know when I said, ' _help me get rid of her_ ,' I didn't actually mean, ' _out our imaginary gay relationship to the whole castle_ ,' right?"

"You didn't?" Anyone who didn't know Merlin really, really well might have thought he was in earnest, big blue eyes wide, mouth small and pursed innocently.

Arthur cuffed him lightly in the head. "Do you have any idea what I've been through today, trying to defend my honor and your virtue to my father and Gaius and Lady Helewys? The only one who actually believed me was the lady, and Gaius thinks--well, I'm not sure exactly what he thinks but I'm pretty sure it involves straps of some kind and maybe not enough lubrication. Also he's afraid I'll break your heart."

Merlin turned an attractive shade of pink that perversely made Arthur feel a bit better. "Ah," he responded, voice cracking.

"And my father says we can be as gay as the day is long provided we _don't talk about it anymore_." He took a few slow steps, backing Merlin against the wall.

Merlin's blush was quickly becoming an alarming purple. "Oh good, as long as we have the consent of the king..." he said faintly.

"We don't have _my consent_ , Merlin, you twat! We'll never live this down, now. I'm expecting Morgana to come along any moment now to lecture me on the proper treatment of servants and to maybe to ask if she can watch sometime." He'd pinned Merlin securely by this point like a moth under a jar, bracing his fists on either side of Merlin's head. Merlin's eyes were glued to his, fear and something else radiating from his body. He smelled like cabbage and sun-warmed hay and sweat.

"I suppose I didn't really--ah--think that one through," Merlin allowed in a small voice. He tried a sheepish grin that fell a little flat under Arthur's gaze.

"No, I suppose not," Arthur agreed, feeling strangely charitable. "Now could you please tell me _why_ , for the love of Camelot, you decided to tell Lady Helewys and the whole court that we were lovers?"

"Um, well. I..." Merlin looked away, looked at anything but Arthur, which in the stairwell alone with him wasn't all that much. He fidgeted with the scarf around his neck.

" _Merlin_ ," Arthur warned, feeling less charitable by the moment. His head began to twinge again.

"Do you want to marry her?" Merlin blurted out, then looked horrified.

"Do I want--no, of course I don't want to marry her, what on earth--" Arthur broke off, watching Merlin's face with alarm as all the blood drained from it. "Merlin. Why does Gaius think I'm going to break your heart?" he asked slowly, apprehension making itself known to Arthur's gut.

Merlin, pale and sweaty, looked him in the eye and shrugged, baring his teeth in what Arthur assumed was supposed to be a joking smile, but the game was up now, and Merlin must have realized it because his face sort of crumpled. Arthur stumbled back just as Merlin reached for him and caught him by the tunic, and they swayed there in a gentle tug-of-war for a long moment.

" _Arthur_ ," Merlin said, a wealth of trepidation and hopefulness in his voice.

"Oh," said Arthur eloquently, blinking, and Merlin let go of his tunic.

"Arthur, I couldn't help it, I just. Lost my head. I was just thinking, how can I stop her from pursuing you, how can I convince her you aren't available, and then. It just came out, I don't know."

"I see," Arthur said, tilting his head speculatively. "You thought, what's the harm? Would it be so bad if everyone thought we were involved in a torrid gay love affair?"

Merlin gestured helplessly, small flailing motions. "Arthur, everyone already thought that."

"And you wanted it to be true."

Merlin caught his lower lip in his teeth and Arthur followed the motion with his eyes. "For a little while."

"For a little while, but not anymore?"

Merlin took a deep breath. His lower lip was red and shiny. "Do you?"

Arthur frowned, watching the light from the arrow slit on Merlin's mouth, on his cheek. He leaned down, hesitated, then leaned some more, pressing his mouth to Merlin's and trying to see what all the fuss was about. Then Merlin groaned soulfully and grabbed Arthur by the tunic again, spinning him around bodily and slamming him back against the wall, spearing Arthur's mouth with his tongue and--oh--

That's what all the fuss was about.

Merlin was all over him like a hunting dog on a scent, rapacious and exuberant as he kissed Arthur within an inch of his life, until Arthur had to pry his mouth away for a second to breathe. Merlin meanwhile had found Arthur's neck and was _biting_ , gently and then not so gently, and all Arthur could do was hang on, trying and failing to be surprised that yes, of course this felt so right, an entire castle full of assumptions couldn't be all wrong.

And Merlin was so much stronger than Arthur gave him credit for, shaking so hard in his arms and still manhandling his limbs this way and that, arranging Arthur to his desire around him, and god help him Arthur _let him_. He pushed his hand into Merlin's hair as Merlin's mouth found his again, hooking his other arm around Merlin's neck to hold on tight, and kissing had never ever been this good with anyone, never fit so immediately or so perfectly like great cogs in a war machine. Merlin's hands were scrabbling at his pants and of course, here, in the stairwell where anyone could come upon them, naturally it was alright, because it was nothing more than the whole castle thought they were doing already.

And so it was that Merlin's hand closed around his cock and Arthur cried out against his mouth, arching up and back, at the very moment he heard, "My lord prince? I thought I heard your voice--you're--oh! Oh!" Lady Helewys' footsteps came to a stuttering halt somewhere nearby but Arthur couldn't pry his eyes open to look at her, so great was his pleasure at Merlin's hands. Dimly, he heard her sounds of distress and then her rapid retreat, but all he cared about was Merlin's voice, Merlin's lips moving against his in a litany of "Mine, my lord, only mine, _Arthur_ ," and truly it must have been the case because Arthur couldn't think of a single reason to argue.

Then Merlin was pulling his hand away, out of Arthur's clothes, stepping back with the afternoon sun in a bright bar across his face, and Arthur followed blindly when Merlin beckoned like a siren up the stairs to his room. And really, Arthur thought with his last coherent thread of rationality as Merlin locked the door behind him and pulled Arthur to the bed, kissing him and vibrating with joy, he couldn't recall why he'd protested in the first place.

*~*~*~*

Lady Helewys departed early the next morning, to no one's surprise. She shook her head sadly at the king and thanked him for his hospitality, making some noises about confused princes and bumbling manservants, but it was clear there was not much real resentment there and Uther only sighed and wished her well on her journey. Then she stepped up into her covered carriage, her alarmingly chartreuse-colored dress disappearing within several seconds after she did.

Arthur watched her leave from his bedroom window, Merlin leaning his cheek on Arthur's bare shoulder, both of them naked. "Maybe we should send her a fruit basket," Merlin mused, resting his hand in the small of Arthur's back.

"I wouldn't want to encourage her," Arthur replied with a shudder. "I barely escaped with my dignity as it is."

"What dignity?" Merlin yawned, sidestepping Arthur's swipe. "Oh, I forgot, Gaius sent this up while you were sleeping."

Arthur felt his face warm, looking at the wide-necked jar stoppered with a cork in Merlin's outstretched hand. "Is that what I think it is?"

"I assume he really was concerned for my physical well-being," Merlin said, pulling out the cork and dipping his fingers experimentally in the viscous oil. The scent of almonds and honey wafted to Arthur's nose. "Hmm, edible too," Merlin announced thoughtfully, tasting it.

Arthur shuddered, one long shiver that started at his head and rippled down to his feet, ricocheting somewhere around his groin. "How solicitous of him. A little creepy, but helpful." He sidled up to Merlin, still caught in the _new_ and _learning_ , touching him softly on the slight curve of his hipbone, where the gray morning light slid down his skin like it was marble.

Merlin grinned at him, and Arthur hadn't known that Merlin could look like that, like a fighter measuring an opponent, like an equal. It threw Arthur off his balance and made his blood sing at the same time, and for all that it was unexpected it somehow wasn't, either, when Merlin added, "Of course, he was thinking of _my_ well-being, but I'm not the one who'll be using it."

Merlin rubbed his fingers together speculatively, looking at Arthur through his lashes, and Arthur blushed and wondered--if he even bothered to protest, would Merlin believe him? He supposed not. He wouldn't believe it himself.

*~*~*~*

  


end

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from Shakespeare, obviously, although I doubt he envisioned it being used in such a way. You know, Hamlet says, "The play's the thing, wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king," and his lady mother the Queen says, "The lady doth protest too much, methinks," and it's all very cloak and dagger how the truth comes out. Which is far more dramatic than this little story, but I figured Merlin sort of accidentally on purpose used his own little bit of subterfuge to get Arthur to play a role in which he mimicked reality but didn't know it, and then there is some sex. Which is different from Hamlet. And also Arthur protests a lot but is not a lady, though a case could be made for the title of queen. And nobody dies horribly.
> 
> And it's not nearly as funny when I explain it as it sounded in my head, but we can't all be Shakespeare. Although apparently several different men managed to do it in the 16th century, if you believe the scholars.
> 
> Many thanks to Alexia for being a wonderful beta and friend.


End file.
